


Come Inside

by WanderingSummerBreeze



Category: Outlander (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-03
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-08-12 16:55:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7942015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WanderingSummerBreeze/pseuds/WanderingSummerBreeze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Season 1, episode 6, Jamie guards Claire's door while she sleeps when they are on the road, What may have happened had he taken her up on her offer to come inside for warmth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come Inside

"You can't sleep out here. At least, come into the room. It's warmer."

"Sleep in your room? With you?" He looked downright affronted as if I had placed the gravest insult upon him to suggest such a thing. "I couldn't do that. Your reputation would be ruined."

"My reputation?" I scoffed as I proceeded to remind him of the last few days on the road, sleeping under the stars with members of the MacKenzie clan. He shook me off, "It isn't the same," he had said. "Nonsense. You cannot stay out here. You'll freeze. Do come inside, Jamie. I promise, no one need know."

I watched the inner workings of his brain as a blush crept up his already rosy-chilled cheeks at my suggestion. I had never met a man so intent on keeping me and mine safe. Whether at Leoch or out here on the road.

I stepped back slightly with my arm extended. He looked around nervously, making sure no one would see, then cautiously took a step inside the room.

I closed the door behind him and walked back to the bed. It was late. I was exhausted as I’m sure he must have been. He stood stalk still at the end of the bed, staring down at the floor. Sometimes, as surprising as it was, it was easy to forget the time I was living in. People didn’t do this sort of thing. Even though it was meant as pure hospitality and a desire for a kind man to not freeze outside my door while trying to keep me safe, it wasn’t something you did as a respectable woman. Inviting a man into your room. I felt ashamed at my earlier tease and mention of the accommodations outside with the other men. His face had almost looked hurt at the reminder.

“Here,” I held out the blanket from my bed for him. He looked up then, smiled shyly, bowed, and took the blanket. I watched as he shrugged the tartan from his shoulders to fall back in place behind him.

“Thank you. Truly.”

“You’re quite welcome.” I pulled back my remaining blanket and got back into bed and I watched him sink below the footboard to the floor, setting himself to rest. I left a candle burning and I wasn’t certain as to why. It was not like the slight flame gave off any heat so far away from me. Perhaps it was the flicker of light on his face before he fell beneath the cloak of darkness at the edge of the bed. Perhaps it was to remind myself, when I woke, of where I was. Or maybe simply, I wanted to remain somehow conscience of his presence and the little glow allowed that. 

I lay in bed finding comfort in his soft breathing. I wasn’t sure if he was asleep yet, but his closeness comforted me. Since the day we met, not so long ago and despite my fear of him at first, I took solace in Jamie. He was kind, attentive and sincere. And if I was honest with myself, I was indeed very attracted to him. I thought, perhaps, there was something there for me as well. Perhaps more than just friends? I had seen him kissing that blonde girl, Laoghaire, at the castle. And while surprised at first, given him saying he barely knew her, I thought later that me catching this secret liaison with her was deliberate. He seemed almost happy that I had caught him. He had pulled away from her and I’m sure I saw a hint of a smile cross his features. If this was the 18th century way of making someone jealous, it was not far removed from my time. And thus, very much had worked. 

I had tried to convince myself that it was their closeness that reminded me of myself and Frank together. That my sadness that had come on suddenly was just me missing my husband. But truthfully, I wanted, at that moment, to be in almost anyone’s arms. Some strong, but gentle mans embrace. And so far, Jamie’s was the only one that fit that.

I closed my eyes as I lay there and imagined a man slowly crawling up the bed toward me. Silent and alert as if stalking prey he straddles me as I lay hidden under the covers. One hand cradling my face as the other brushes away the hair from my face. I let out a small whimper and he whispers “shhh” in my ear.

I let my hand slide under the blanket as my imagination took hold of me. The man should have been Frank. It should have been my husband that I missed so dearly, but when I pulled my skirts up and let my fingers enter me, I moaned. The man I saw suddenly came through the fog of imagination and it was Jamie. I let out a small gasp and pulled my hand away from my skirts, sitting up slightly against the pillow. 

I was silent a moment trying to think back a few seconds. Suddenly I was certain that moan hadn’t come from my lips. And in truth, it wasn’t a moan. It was a groan. And it came from below. I lay still, listening. It was almost inaudible. Just a hint of rustling at a steady pace and labored breathing. I held my breath, focusing on the low hum. 

I kept silent and pulled myself from the covers, creeping to the edge of the bed to look over. I could see him now, thanks to glowing flame. His eyes were shut tight, concentrating, his right hand beneath the blanket suddenly stilled. 

There was a moment in that room that no one dare breathe a breath. A grave in a deserted ghost town would not have been so still as us. In that moment, I could not turn away even though I knew his eyes were about to open.

They did just that. We held each other’s stare, his eyes slowly widening, coming to the realization that I was fully aware of what he was doing. Finally, he shot up, breaking free of the blanket, but still laying half on the floor, “Claire! I’m sorry. I couldna….,” he rambled on until a quiet, “I’m sorry,” fell from his lips. He turned away from me then, ashamed. “I’ll go.”

He started to gather himself but I stopped him, “No Jamie. Please don’t.”

He turned his head back to me, shocked. “I’ve shamed you, lass. I should not have been doing…. that….in your presence.  
“It’s alright. Can you tell me why you were? Was it…,” I hesitated, not really sure I wanted to know, “Laoghaire you were thinking of?”

He looked upset at the idea. “No. Truly. I wasna. I would never think of her… I was thinking of…” he turned his head away again “It’s just, I ken you were there and I could hear ya breathing and smell ya an I just couldna stop myself.”

“Then I shouldn’t have stopped you.” In that small little room, in that flicker of flame and time, I wanted nothing more than to hear him and watch him stroke himself to completion in front of me. His kilt covered him well, and he had pulled the blanket up slightly to shield his shame, but I knew he was still hard. I knew he still needed to vent his frustrations of this journey and I knew I needed him to.

“You needn’t be ashamed, Jamie. I understand need. I understand loneliness and the need to feel close to someone.” And I did. I was raised by a wonderful Uncle and traversed the world with him, but I missed my parents. I missed my mother, what I could remember of her. That loneliness stays inside you. Sometimes it can be temporarily filled by other people, but when they leave, they take those bits that filled the loneliness with them and you’re left with this open sore that has only gotten deeper. And then you meet more people and they fill that hole again, but only for a short while and each time that emptiness burrows to the deepest part of your soul and you die a little bit when you come to the realization that it may never be full again.

I lowered myself to lay the length of the end of the bed on my back. I held Jamie’s gaze as I let my hand slowly travel around my outer breast, following the path of my body toward the apex of my thighs. I let it rest there briefly, taking a sudden intake of breath and holding it, I used my fingers to slowly pull up my skirts. My breathing had stopped, but Jamie’s had increased. Not in sound, but I could see the heavy rise and fall of his chest as his eyes escaped my gaze and fell to the ministrations of my fingers.

“Mistress…” he warned in quiet whisper. It was a poor attempt at stopping me. It was a poor attempt at stopping himself.

My skirts were bundled around my waist. He couldn’t see anything, save up to my thighs, but he couldn’t look away. I pulled my skirts deliberately up an inch or so more and let my fingers crawl through the hair between my thighs. 

He stopped breathing then.

I held out a second longer, watching his intense stare at my hand. At my center. “Breathe Jamie,” I said and he glanced up at me just as I entered myself. My eyes closed to slits and I could see the intake of breath as he watched my face contort in pleasure. Little moans escaped my mouth and I revelled in his eyes upon me. I pushed two, then three fingers inside myself. I was tight, it had been a while, but I was slick with honey and Jamie’s look of fascination upon me. I could swear he had never had a lover that had done this with him before. My last thought before sinking deeper into bliss  
was that he must have only been with girls. Never a woman. Jamie needed a woman and tonight I would be his.

I writhed on the bed and whimpered out his name. I could not see all of him. His shoulders were slightly taller than the end of the bed, but I could see their movement. He was touching himself, I was certain.

I watched him as his eyes became cloudy as he struggled to keep them focused on my hand and my face, going between one and the other continuously as if his brain could not decide which he desired to see most. I used my left hand to pull at my stays and release a breast from it’s captive. I was nearing completion, and I heard him whisper “Sassenach” and at the sound of his voice, my orgasm overcame me. I shuddered and bucked wildly, grasping the sheets around me, having never experienced one so strong in all my life. 

When my breathing finally settled and the perspiration between my breasts started to trickle down, I opened my eyes. Jamie was staring at me with wonderment. His arm movements had slowed, but hadn’t stopped completely.

“Yer beautiful, Sassenach,” he said smiling. 

I smiled back, only mildly embarrassed, and leaned up on my elbows. “It’s your turn.” That broke his smile and his languid strokes. He shook his head, and started to argue that a man shouldn’t do such things in front of women. They shouldn’t be doing them at all, but I cut him off. “You saw me, now let me watch you. I promise, I will stay up here on the bed. Just lay back on the floor and close your eyes.”

He eyed me suspiciously and muttered something in Gaelic, but did as I asked. I maneuvered myself onto my stomach, looking over the end of the bed at him. I so wished he would take off his shirt, but he didn’t. He watched me from below, made a slight annoyed sound and settled himself, closing his eyes. He took a few moments and a few deep breaths, but he let his hand push the blanket away and hiked up his kilt just enough to reach underneath, grasping his cock. His body jerked slightly at the contact and he let out a strangled groan.

I found myself licking my lips in anticipation. Much the same as him, my eyes darted from his face to his groin, but I did take a generous amount of time appreciating the rest of his body. While he lay clothed, I knew what his chest looked like. His broad shoulders that seemed to carry the weight of the world on them. And his back. I suddenly longed to trace his scars with my fingers and leave a trail for my tongue to follow. Healed, old scars as they were, I thought that I could maybe erase them with time and tenderness.

Jamie’s strokes became hurried as his left hand pulled the kilt completely away from his groin and he cupped his balls while his right hand stroked his cock and circled the tip, only to come back down again. Finally, with his penis in full view, I was taken aback. He was large. Not merely in length, but girth as well and his left hand cupped some very large testicles. 

I hadn’t realized that the sight of him taking pleasure in his body had made me start to grind against the bed seeking friction. I couldn’t climb atop him. I knew that. While he was so far gone now to not stop himself if I tried, I feared he would feel differently about me in the morning. Whereas this, this was just two people sharing something. No touching. Just a secret that would be kept.

I grinded harder against the surface below me, “Tell me what your thinking, Jamie.”

“Of you, Sassenach…. ah…” his groans became deeper and his right hand became more frenzied in its ministrations. “Of bedding ya…. of… of your face when you finished.” My hand went under my skirt to my wetness and I encouraged him on. “of your hands on my….”

“On your what Jamie” I choked out.

“On my cock.”

I watched his back leave the floor in a feverish explosion and his face display the most beautiful plethora of emotions. From happy, to urgent, to focused, then finally to pleasure and euphoria as he spilled his seed over his hand and tartan, grunting as he squeezed every drop out of the tip. 

I had barely realized that I had come along with him. That while the sight of his beautiful cock turned me on, it was the emotions splayed across his face that truly did me in. 

We both lay in a mass of heated pleasure as the sights and sounds of the world outside the room seeped their way in. Our breathing evened out and I opened my eyes to see him smiling up at me. I smiled back just as I watched his disappear from his face as shame took over once more. He turned from me then and stood on shaky legs, away from me.

I felt shame too. I inched back to the top of the bed and pulled the covers around me, hugging myself. Had I just cheated on Frank? Jamie and I didn’t even touch, and yet. And yet. I had. Not just in my body, but my mind as well and if I was being honest, my heart. I had loved Jamie in that moment. His goodness. His continued protection of me, even in sharing this experience. It was never going to be repeated or gossiped about. Never going to be spoken of over a cup of whisky and stale cigars. It was a private moment, shared only by the two of us and a dancing of a flame. He filled the emptiness inside me, and me – his, I think. I know. If only for an instant.

“I must go now, Mistress. I will sleep just on the other side of the door, keeping watch. Is nay right for me to be here.” I nodded, but he could not see me. He wouldn’t turn around to face me. Couldn’t.

I watched him pull the door open slowly to peer outside. No one around. Loud noises still heard below with all the other men still drinking.

“Goodnight, Jamie.” I said in hope of forgiveness at what I had help transpire.

He stopped just before closing the door and I heard a sigh of resolution. He then turned slightly to face me, hand still on the door knob, and smiled. “Good night. Claire.” He bowed, his eyes on mine with sincere calm and closed the door, the breeze shutting out the flame behind me.


End file.
